


Beginning of the End

by mitslits



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2364668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/mitslits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short look into Tess' past. I imagine that she was old enough to be a little kid when the outbreak first hit and this is an exploration of how she dealt with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginning of the End

_Gunshots echoed in her ears and the only thing she could think of was that it sounded nothing like it did in the cartoons she watched. Besides, when people got shot it was supposed to be funny, wasn't it? They were supposed to grab their butt and leap up in the air, screaming "Yahoohoohoo!" Getting shot wasn't this red. It wasn't this bloody. It wasn't this terrifying. Was it?_

_Ten-year-old Tess pressed herself closer to her mother's shaking body, eyes wide as her father swung the flashlight around. "Get her out of here! Take the car, get to the Interstate, and go somewhere, anywhere. Don't stop for anybody, you hear me?"_

_She remembers her mother nodding, tears flowing down her face. Warm arms encircled her and her father tugged her hand to his lips, kissing it softly before releasing her. It left a bloody handprint._

 

Tess woke up in a tangle of blankets and sweat. Groaning, she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them and sighing loudly. Another fucking nightmare. It wasn't like she wasn't used to them; they happened at least twice and a week and it was always the same. The night of the outbreak, the crack of the gun, the dull smack as the bullet slammed into her dad's gut... Angrily she threw the blankets back, running a hand through her hair quickly. 

"Wake up, Joel, we've got a run, remember?" She flicked the back of the salt-and-pepper head as she passed, rummaging in their near-bare pantries for the shot glasses.

A rumbling groan reached her ears and Joel sat up slowly, rubbing at his right shoulder. "Startin' the mornin' with whiskey seem like a bright idea to you?"

She gave him a half-hearted glare as she tipped a measure of the alcohol into her shot glass. "See anything else around here?" With that she tossed it back, welcoming the burning streak of fire it left down her throat. She hoped it could sear away the cobwebs of the dream that refused to leave her brain. As Joel heaved himself out of the bed she poured herself another shot of whiskey, swallowing it quickly and heading over to the chest she and Joel used to store their weapons.

They were getting low on ammo she noted as she loaded herself up. A 9-millimeter took up residence in her back pocket and she strapped a shiv to an underarm sheath, tugging her sleeve over it to keep it hidden. A pair of smaller throwing knives were quickly shoved into her boots and she tied her short hair back with a black bandanna.

"Slowpoke", she muttered as she reached past Joel for the whiskey bottle. Not even bothering with the shot glass this time she brought the bottle to her lips, taking a deep pull. 

Casually, Joel brushed past her, his elbow knocking the bottle further upwards. 

Spluttering as the deluge of whiskey splashed out of her mouth and onto her nose and cheeks she slammed it down on the counter, coughs overtaking her. "You...fucking... _asshole_ ", she panted in between coughs, wiping her mouth with the back of her right sleeve.

Joel smirked as he selected his own weapons, slinging their shotgun over his left shoulder and shoving a .45 into his waistband. "Don't blame me if you can't hold your liquor", he quipped already heading out the door. "Now you coming or not?"

Damn him.

                                                        _______________________________________________________________________________

_Her finger wrapped around the trigger of the sawed-off, stock pressed firmly into her shoulder. "Watch the kick, watch the kick, watch the kick", she chanted to herself as she sighted down the barrel as best she could._

_The Runner turned towards her, shrieking._ _Its arms twisted grotesquely as it reached for her, eyes glassy in their sockets and diseased teeth gnashing._

_Twelve-year-old Tess pulled the trigger, gun backing back and a blossom of pain unfolding in her shoulder. But her aim had been true and the Runner's head exploded, blood and diseased flesh spattering the walls and her cheek. Shakily, she lowered the gun, breath heaving in her chest. "Mama?" Her voice came out as little more than a whisper and she ran to her mother's figure, stretched out on the floor._

_"Tess, baby, are you okay?"_

_Tess heaved a sigh of relief. Her mother was alive. The gun clattered to the floor and she threw her arms around her, awkwardly hugging her._

_Her mom sat up, one arm pressing her daughter closer to her. She pulled back to look at Tess, eyes softening when she saw the gore patterning her cheek. "Oh, baby, come here", she said softly. Her hand brushed against Tess' skin, wiping away the remaining blood and giving her a small smile. "You saved me, you know that? That's my brave girl."_

 

One good kick and the door caved in, flying backwards into the room. Joel entered first, shotgun at the ready, his eyes and ears peeled for any sign of the Infected. Tess was right at his heels. The first couple of runs they'd done he'd insisted she wait until he had cleared the area before she came in but Tess had never been one to hang back. They established that pretty quickly and now Joel kept any objections he might have had to himself.

"Nothin'. You think Robert cleared 'em out?" the man in question asked, lowering the barrel slightly but not removing his finger from the trigger.

Tess curled her lip at the mention of Robert's name, kicking at an empty bottle on the ground. "I wouldn't put it past the bastard. That damn pig's been all over our turf lately", she muttered, dropping into a crouch and plucking a stray shotgun shell out of the corner it had rolled into. She held it up, Joel's flashlight beam focusing on her. Squinting she shook it slightly, giving him a knowing look. "It sure as hell wasn't Infected clearing out our stash."

Joel's brow grew stormy and he took the shell from her giving it a quick once-over himself before stashing it in his pocket. One thing they had learned since the outbreak: You never wasted ammo. "What're you thinkin'?" he asked after a minute of stony silence.

Tess glanced up, a hard smile on her face. "I'm thinking", she began, "that we need to pay Robert a little visit."

                                                      _________________________________________________________________________________

_That one was an accountant, she thought. After all, he was wearing a suit, no matter how ragged or filthy it may be. His brains were on the wall a second later. And that one, she continued, was a car sales lady. She hated the taste of cinnamon but had a cinnamon-scented air freshener in her car. She colored the floor red. Hmmm. What should this one be? A fast food worker, Tess decided. But not at anything too big like McDonalds or Wendys. A Jack-in-the-Box then._

_Her mother's bullet took out that one, flinging him off his feet and sending him crashing to the floor._

_Fifteen-year-old Tess turned to look at her. Her inner monologue had run dry. "I don't think this is working, mom", she said with the scornful edge all teenagers possess._

_A disapproving glare caused her to do little more than huff and roll her eyes. "We have to remember, hun, that these were real people. They were something once. Respect that, Tess. They didn't choose this any more than you would have if it had been you."_

_"Giving them backstories, though? That's really fucking lame", she groaned._

_"Language, Tess", her mother snapped, focusing on reloading her gun instead of her daughter._

_Another eye-roll. "We're in the fucking apocalypse, mother. I think swearing is the least of our shitty problems."_

_The screech of another Runner proved her right. A bank teller. The bullet went right between its eyes._

 

Joel was asleep and Tess was determined to keep him that way. She snuck by his bed on tip-toe, retrieving only one handgun from the weapons chest this time and easing the lid down to make sure it didn't creak. Holding her breath she inched the door open, wincing when it let out a creaking groan halfway open. Her eyes flicked back to Joel's sleeping form and she let out the breath she'd been holding as it did nothing but stir slightly.

The gap was just wide enough for her to slip through and she did, closing the door just as slowly behind her. The lock clicked and she was on her way, strolling down the street. Her hand lingered on her hip, where the gun rested and her eyes flicked back and forth, constantly scanning for threats. She headed to the drop point. 

A little over an hour later she was making her way back to the house she shared with Joel, even more cautious than before. The wad of ration cards stuffed in her pocket felt like they were a blazing beacon shouting 'rob me' and when the two men detached themselves from the shadows she thought that's what they were going for.

She became well acquainted with the ring on the first man's finger as it split the skin of her cheek. An arm slid around her throat and a voice rasped in her ear. "Robert sends his regards."

Fucking Robert.

She slammed her elbow backwards, feeling the crack of bone as it hit the man's ribs. He stumbled backwards, hissing through his teeth. "You _bitch_!" he seethed. Tess didn't bother to listen. She ducked under the swinging arm of the second man, her booted foot connecting solidly with his kneecap. The satisfying crunch sent him to his knees.

Something slammed into the small of her back and she stumbled forwards, nearly falling. Her shirt rode up and she whipped her pistol out, spinning around. The first man was almost on her, one arm cradling his ribcage, the other heading for her gut. The shot caught him in the forehead and he dropped like a stone. Tess leveled the gun at the second man.

"No, please, it's not my fucking fault, Robert sen-" He never finished his sentence.

                                                    _______________________________________________________________________________

_Twenty-year-old Tess slept lightly, awaking at the slightest touch to her shoulder. Her mother's fingers pressed to her lips and she soon heard why. The eerie clicking bounced off the walls and soon she could even pick up the shuffling footsteps._

_Carefully getting to her feet, her fingers scrabbled for her gun, curling around the grip. She instantly felt safer. They made their way towards the door to the outside inch by inch, eyes flicking between the floor ahead and the darkness of the hallway behind where the Clicker was shuffling ever onwards._

_Tess' hand had just rested on the knob when an unearthly shriek came from behind them. "Oh, shit", Tess breathed as it came lumbering out the darkness towards them, jaws slavering. There were no telling how many were cooped up in this old apartment complex and she sure as hell didn't want to bring a whole pack of them down on her and her mother. Who, it seemed, had no such qualms._

_"Mom, wait, what the hell are you-?"_

_The gunshot exploded, echoing along the walls. The Clicker dropped. For a tense moment, everything was quiet. A roaring came sweeping down the hallways, the stamping of feet all around them._

_"Shit, mom, what were you thinking?" Tess shouted, flinging open the door and racing outside. When she glanced back she noticed her mother was still standing in the dark, eyes closed as she faced the sunlight coming in through the still open doorway. "Mom?" Tess asked, bewildered. "We gotta hurry the fuck up and get out of here!"_

_Without a word, her mother stepped forwards. Her hand closed firmly around the doorknob and the door slammed shut. The lock clicked._

_"What the fuck?! Mom! What the hell's going on? Mom, open the damn door! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She beat at the door until she was leaving smears of blood, but the metal remained unforgiving. "Mom!"_

_Her mother turned to face the pack of Clickers, shotgun stock nestled in her shoulder. She breathed out through her mouth, trying to slow her heartbeat. The bite on her forearm was beginning to sting but she'd take out as many of the fuckers as she could before she turned. The door shook on its hinges at her back as Tess pounded on it and she wished her daughter would get herself out of danger already. She took aim._

_The fading echo of gunshots rang in Tess' ear. She was slumped against the door, forehead pressed against the cold metal. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. She kept waiting for the door to open, for her mother's face to appear in the doorway, blood-spattered but grinning like wild because she'd just taken on a pack of Clickers and won._

_Silence from the other side of the door. Then the clicking started._

 

Her cheek stung and she brushed a finger over it lightly, the other hand clenched into a fist. Damn Robert. She'd get the fucker if it was the last thing she did. She didn't know then that it would be the beginning of the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, look at that, I am doing another fanfic for The Last of Us after all.
> 
> I don't know how canonically old Tess is, so her age might not be accurate. I hope you enjoy anyways.


End file.
